


why she got detention

by realjane



Series: Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Detention, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane
Summary: Draco is stunned to learn why his witch got Detention.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081031
Comments: 28
Kudos: 178





	why she got detention

**Author's Note:**

> Part... 6? of my Relentless series! I'm now operating from a prompt list, but feel free to suggest any ideas you have for future interludes! They could be from any point in this budding relationship. Thanks for reading!
> 
> On a personal note, I'm completely exhausted so I just really appreciate you popping in here. Don't know what else to say except thank you!

He leaned against the doorway as she gathered her things. She refused to look at him, and when she was finished, she shouldered him hard in the stomach and pushed through the door.

“Ow! Granger--”

“If you’re going to make fun of me, you can just stuff it!” She stomped down the hallway. He had to skip to catch up with her.

“What in Merlin’s name did you do to get Detention with  _ Sprout, _ of all professors--”

She whirled on him and stuck her finger in his face. He skidded to a halt within her personal bubble, but it didn’t stop her from straightening her posture and smacking him in the chest. “Nothing! Except cover your stupid, arrogant, good-for-nothing--No! Stop trying to distract me.” She ducked away as he tried to kiss her. He threw up his hands.

“There’s nobody around!” The corridor was indeed deserted, in all directions. It was well past supper, which he had eaten in sullen silence because she had worked up the courage to actually sit with him to the point where they had a ten-point exit strategy if any of his fellow Slytherins decided to make an event out of it… but all he got was a short note in her neat print. 

> _ Detention with Sprout. - H _

She shook her head. “If you had done your work, I wouldn’t have had to break in in the first place--”

He caught her elbow. “You  _ broke in?” _

“I… what? I’m not an  _ angel.”  _ She tried to tug her arm out of his grasp but he wouldn’t have it. He grinned. 

“I’m aware.” 

“Don’t do that! You’re making fun.”

“I’m not!” he snickered. “I’m just glad you’re out, I’d have sprung you sooner if I knew you were scrubbing  _ pots--” _

_ “Which I was scrubbing, _ because  _ someone _ didn’t pot his mandrake correctly because--” she smacked his hand at her elbow but he held fast--  _ “someone _ decided to push his luck with getting a handful under the workbench!”

Draco whirled her to him with a sharp pull. “What? Can’t a guy check the length of his girlfriend’s hem without being accused of having ulterior motives?” He hugged her tight, nesting his chin in the crook of her shoulder, marking the way her trapezius tensed in anticipation of his next barb, but then, he felt her shake. Draco nosed her temple. “What’s got you in a strop now?”

She sagged a bit. He squeezed her tighter. She always acquiesced eventually, especially when he had her physically trapped in his arms, which… if she insisted on taking him to task  _ every time _ she disapproved of him, he’d just have to pin her to the wall. Or a desk, or… Draco let out a huff. They hadn’t even broached the idea, but he had been testing the limits of her comfort lately. To see what made her eyes go wide, what… made her wriggle. He liked that. Having the upper hand fed his ego. But he… didn’t get much of a charge out of actually seeing her hurt, and if he had hurt her feelings, or… gods forbid  _ revolted her _ by attempting to see if her thighs were as soft as her wrists, then he’d sooner throw himself from the tallest goal post on the pitch. Besides, she went to Detention for him, and what kind of girlf--

He blanched.

Fuck.

Maybe she just… didn’t hear him say it. It could’ve only been said in his head, or under his breath, and certainly not for the  _ first ever time _ come out of his mouth when he was trying to convince her not to be mad at him, and certainly not because he had dreamed about asking her to be his  _ that word _ under very different circumstances, which required a fair amount of candles and some dignity he seemed to have misplaced. Not just… call her that, flippantly, as if he didn’t know how very grave it was to have  _ one of those _ when one was a sworn bachelor, and especially when one’s  _ that _ had gone to great lengths to make people accept it as normal to begin with--fuck it, who was he kidding?

Draco sighed into her skin. She shivered. “If it’s all the same to you… I would very much like it, if you  _ were.  _ My, uhm. Well, in ever-so-many words it’s what you already are, Granger. You very nearly declared it to the entire school with your New Year’s display, and so it stands to reason that a simple title would rather… fit.” He kissed her jaw, right where it curved up towards her ear, and then below it. “I would be remiss if I didn’t recognize what you are to me.”

Two things happened simultaneously, both of which stole every last ounce of churlish glee from him:

She gasped.

She arched her back.

Draco  _ paled _ as she pressed up on her toes. Her head tilted all the way back so it was pillowed against his chest, and her lips found his cheek. Under his hands, her blouse rucked itself out of her waistband. It was decidedly unhumorous, and rather put him in the position of remembering the  _ other _ dreams he had been having about her. Deadly serious. He was frozen.  _ Don’t move. She won’t see you if you stand completely still. Like a statue, who freezes immediately upon using possessive titles and does not unfreeze again until the subject dies of mortification, or maybe of suffocation from stifling the very real response his body has when she stands like that. _

“Do I get any say in the matter?” Her voice cut through his deluge of deprecation. She patted his hands. He released her like a snapped rubber band and stood back. 

“I… I suppose.”

Her posture was drawn, her hair mussed… her shirt entirely untucked. Oddly, she didn’t look at all mad, just sheepish and shy… which was confusing after her heated reaction just then. It was his least favorite of her emotions. He never could decipher where he stood with her when she wasn’t railing against him or babbling with excitement.

“It doesn’t, I don’t know… cheapen things, for you? To call me that?” Hermione’s cheeks were flushed in a peachy sheen, and it stabbed him to hear it.

_ What a… of all the preposterous ideas!  _

“Whatever do you mean, ‘cheapen?’  _ Deny _ that I prefer you to every other creature on this or any planet?  _ Cheapen, _ Granger?” His fingers tingled and he shook out his hands to quell a building outburst of something a little like fury. “Forget that students don’t give me a wide berth anymore? Ignore that I have a reason to get out of bed every day, and a reason to lose sleep? Cheapen that? You--” He grasped her cheeks in his hands with a ferocity he no longer felt beholden to. “Little infuriating thing, you are a fool.  _ Cheapen. Pssh. _ Never suggest such a thing again.”

She closed her eyes in embarrassment but he shook her, just a little, so she’d keep his hot gaze. 

“Nobody, and I do mean  _ no single soul, _ would ever go to Detention for me, except for you. I think it’s fair to say I’m done for.”

Her eyebrows raised into her hairline, and he could’ve sworn he saw her pupils dilate. “...you are?” she managed. 

“Be my girlfriend or don’t, Granger. I don’t care what you call yourself.”

When she kissed him, the air current hung on the same elongated note of grace that it had the first time she pressed their lips together, some alternate realm where they had all the time in the world to smash their faces together where nobody would see… but she kissed him in… in thanks. He felt it. He knew her touch by now, like a language she created just for him, and suddenly she was crying, and he was confused, but he let her take what she needed.

“I’m still mad at you,” she whispered, when breathing had become not just a luxury but compulsory. She swiped at her cheeks before he could.  _ She cried? Over… that? _

Draco kissed her crooked eyebrow. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.” _And every other time, and especially when you cry because I said something nice to you…_ _Merlin, I don’t like that at all! Who is responsible for this?_ Oh.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. She snatched her book bag from the ground and took him by the wrist, dragging him away from the greenhouses and very likely to the Astronomy tower since it was too late to study in the library. “Yes, well. My  _ boyfriend _ has this annoying habit of pissing me off, it’s like he wants--”

He yanked her backwards and she squeaked. “You could’ve torn my arm off!”

“Say it again.” He grinned at her. She was trying not to smile, trying to still be angry with him. 

“Say what? I didn’t say anything.”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Hmm?” She blinked innocently. “What?”

He narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t persist. Instead, he laced her fingers through his and led her down the hallway. He had to get her somewhere  _ away, _ where they could have a specific conversation and he could  _ also _ snog her to death. Almost immediately upon turning the corner, they were met with the sight of a small gathering of professors. 

“Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy. On your way to study, I hope?” Headmistress McGonagall addressed them, even as she began to turn back to the small circle of her staff.

“Yes, my  _ girlfriend _ has a lot of homework for Potions,” Draco said pointedly, not looking down at the girl who was digging her nails into the back of his hand. The professors virtually ignored them. It’s not as if the affairs of students mattered much to them, especially considering the fact that the largest issue the school had faced in recent history was the fact that Peeves now had a devoted following of second-year Hufflepuffs committed to ‘bread bombing’ unsuspecting passersby with surprise baked goods from the third story moving staircase. The fact that these two students (who were largely developing a habit for public scenes) were together didn’t even register as a blip on their radar.

Hermione said nothing, but she had the sharpest little talons… 

“Hullo, Sir Nicholas!” She called to the almost-pateless ghost as he floated through their path.

“Ah! Good evening! Where are we off to?” Nicholas bowed with a flourish.

Hermione clicked her tongue. “Lots to study, especially since my  _ boyfriend _ didn’t do so well on his last Arithmancy test. Probably be buried in books until midnight again!”

“Ah, to be young and in love, wiling away one’s hours amongst the stacks…” Sir Nicholas sighed wistfully, clutching his gauntlets over the escutcheon on his tattered waistcoat. “Off with you, young ones!”

Draco couldn’t be entirely sure but he could almost swear that Hermione’s hand had begun to sweat, just then. Or it was his. Someone was clammy, and it couldn’t be because a ghost had used the L-word, because that was pretty stupid. Ghosts are stupid.  _ Oh my gods, Draco Malfoy, ‘ghosts are stupid?’ You’re losing it. _

They climbed up to the Astronomy tower, but Draco disallowed her from pulling any books or parchment from her sack by promptly pushing her bag back down through the trap door as soon as they were through it. It made such a satisfying thud the moment it met the floor.

“Draco!” Hermione gasped, reaching for her wand. He shook his head.

“No. No homework. Come here right now.” He sat down with his back to the stone outer wall of the castle, at a position where they could peer through an archer’s vantage (why a great wizarding school needed strategic positions for archers, he would never understand) down into the valley and the moonlit lake, and held open his arms to her.

“You don’t have to push my books into the abyss to convince me to take a break!”

“Don’t I?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

She knelt between his knees like she didn’t quite know how to embrace him when she was deciding if she was still annoyed with him. He quickly rectified that, taking her by the waist and sitting her against his chest. Her legs looped over his. She had small feet, at least compared to his. He had yet to see them unshoed. He hoped that might change. Maybe soon. Maybe not. Maybe she liked to do… intimate things, with her shoes on. He was still learning what made his  _ girlfriend… girlfriend--GIRL.FRIEND.-- _ tick.

Hermione finally relaxed into him. She turned her cheek into his jumper, curling her hand under her chin in that way that signalled she felt safe.

“I can’t believe you broke into the greenhouse to repot my mandrake,” he said softly. Fondly. “I can’t believe you got  _ Detention _ for that.”

“Oh, that’s not why I got Detention,” she murmured. Hermione tilted her chin up until her nose graced his jaw.

“Oh, no?”

“Mhm.”

“Do tell.” Draco traced lazy trails up her back and then hugged her so tight against his chest he thought she would protest. She just snuggled closer.

“Oh, there’s not much to tell, really. Professor Sprout caught me with my wand over the lock, and she just asked me if it was worth ‘sullying myself for my traitor boyfriend’ and I may have accidentally told her where she could put her opinions… and then broke your pot so the mandrake woke up... also I charmed her hair pink. Maybe went a bit far.”

Draco just blinked. And blinked again. And then a surge of something a little stronger than fondness surged in him and he turned his nose into her hair.  _ It’s not that she objects to titles, it’s that Sprout tried to use it against her, made her question if he really wanted this…  _ Forget just snogging, although that wouldn’t be unwelcome later, and distracting her from studying.

_ He’d get Detention for her, too. He’d streak through the Great Hall with a pumpkin on each foot for her. He’d… he’d,  _ well. He’d think of more things when he was done thrumming with pride. He had to do something to remind her that she was being chosen every single day, more than just seeing if she’d let him touch her under her desk. That was the cheap part. Any prat could do that. But what kind of man would he be if Draco let her think that was all she was worth?

He’d think of something. Meanwhile, Draco cupped the nape of her neck and held her close. “Did you eat?” 

“Didn’t have a chance,” she sighed. “I’m not that hungry--”

“Nonsense. You just scrubbed soiled mandrake pots for three hours. I’ll get you something. Stay here.” He kissed her cheek and moved her from his lap so he could scoot towards the trap door. She rubbed her arms unconsciously, like she didn’t realize she was doing it. Draco shrugged his jumper off, pulling it in one motion over his head. He held it out to her. 

In the sweetest, softest smile he’d ever seen, Hermione said her unspoken thanks. She tugged the jumper on--it was far too large on her--and relished the way the sleeves swallowed her hands. Draco paused on the ladder and let himself just look at her. Curly hair was trapped beneath the collar of the grey wool, and her peachy cheeks were flushed, and her nose was wrinkled up, and she was too much.

_ Mine, mine, mine, _ his heart throbbed.  _ My jumper, my girlfriend, mine. _

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr at TheSuperJane to see my prompt list or just come by for a chat!


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